Next Year In Jersulalem
by Karen
Summary: Inspired by the fan fic "Ubi Sunt Gaudia?" by nebroadwe. Passover, 1923. Alfons Heiderich joins the Nachesh family for Passover Seder. When unpleasent truths are revealed, his relationship with Marta nears a turning point. Dedicated to my dear friend, Ellie, AKA dungeonwriter or hotspur on Passover!


_"Then Moses called for all the elders of Israel, and said unto them: 'Draw out, and take you lambs according to your families, and kill the Passover lamb. And ye shall take a bunch of hyssop, and dip it in the blood that is in the basin, and strike the lintel and the two side-posts with the blood that is in the basin; and none of you shall go out of the door of his house until the morning. For the Lord will pass through to smite the Egyptians; and when He seeth the blood upon the lintel, and on the two side-posts, the Lord will pass over the door, and will not suffer the destroyer to come in unto your houses to smite you."_ ~ Exodus, Chapter 12

Next Year In Jerusalem  
A fan fic for the _"Full Metal Alchemist" _Movie_ "Conqueror Of Shambala"_  
By Karen

(14th day of the Jewish month of Nisan, Passover, 1923)

"Why is this night different from other nights? Why is it that on all other nights during the year we eat either bread or _matzah_, but on this night we eat only _matzah_?" Marta Nachash asked the first of the _Mah Nishtana_, the four traditional Passover questions, as was customary for the youngest in the family. It was something she had always been proud of.

_Opa_ Oscar, who led the family's Passover Seder in his white _kittel_, smiled at his granddaughter and gave the traditional answer. "We eat only _matzah_ because our ancestors could not wait for their bread to rise when they were fleeing slavery in Egypt, and so they took the bread out of the oven while it was still flat, which was _matzah_."

"Why is it that on all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs, but on this night we eat only bitter herbs?" The girl continued.

"We eat only _Maror_, a bitter herb, to remind us of the bitterness of slavery that our ancestors endured while in Egypt," _Vati_ answered.

"Why is it that on all other nights we do not dip our herbs even once, but on this night we dip them twice?"

Now it was _Mutti's_ turn. "We dip green vegetables in salt water and Maror in Charoses, a sweet mixture of nuts and wine. The first dip symbolizes the replacing of tears with gratefulness, and the second dip symbolizes sweetening the burden of bitterness and suffering to lessen its pain."

Finally, the fourth question. "Why is it that on all other nights we eat either sitting or reclining, but on this night we eat in a reclining position?"

Even though he himself was not Jewish, Alfons Heiderich had been coming to the Nachash family Passover Seders since before he was even old enough to understand what they were about, so he too took part in this custom and considered it an honor.

"We recline at the Seder table because in ancient times, a person who reclined at a meal symbolized a free person, free from slavery," he replied.

Soon, after the traditional hand washing and blessings, it was time for the holiday meal. Like so many families, the Nachashes had suffered because of the Great War- The humiliation of the Treaty Of Versailles, small rations of food costing wheelbarrows full of money- but they always managed to have enough to eat on their table for the holidays.

There was softened_ matzah_ fried with egg and fat, served savory and sweet. _Matzah_ meal boiled in water and served with milk and butter. A _kugel _made with_ matzah_ instead of noodles. Chopped or ground apples and nuts in wine. Horseradish and beet relish. Poached fish patties and fish balls made from a mixture of ground de-boned carp and pike. Chicken soup served with _matzah_-meal dumplings. Rice with saffron and raisins. Then for desert, _matzah_ meal lemon sponge cake with strawberries and chocolate-coconut macaroons.

"This is wonderful, _Frau_ Nachash, Marta," Alfons complimented his hostesses. "As usual, you make enough to feed the whole German army."

_Herr_ Franz Nachash, a former lieutenant, chuckled. "Oh, don't you insult the ladies, Alfons. This is _nothing_ like that garbage we had to eat on the western front."

Hannah Nachash blushed at the praise and Marta grinned with pride. Then the conversation turned to fond memories of childhood Passovers.

"Remember how you two children were always so competitive about finding that hidden piece of _matzah_?" Hannah laughed.

Now Alfons blushed at the memory and Marta covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"Right, I remember,_ Mutti_. And whoever found it would usually try to ransom it back to the other one."

"Once you made me give you a kiss on the cheek for it!" Alfons accused with a grin, still blushing, and everybody laughed.

Finally, after everyone had eaten their fill, the traditional third cup of wine was poured and the _birkat ha-mazon_ was recited as grace along with a blessing.

_Eliyahu ha-Navi, Eliyahu ha-Tishbi, Eliyahu, Eliyahu, Eliyahu ha-Giladi._  
(Elijah the Prophet, Elijah the Tishbite, Elijah, Elijah, Elijah the Gileadite)

_Bimhayrah v'yamenu, yavo aleynu, im Mashiach ben David, im Mashiach ben David._  
(Speedily and in our days, come to us, with the messiah, son of David, with the messiah, son of David.)

Everyone sang together as the fourth cup for the Prophet Elijah was poured and the front door was briefly opened. Then after more psalms and another blessing the cup was drunk and the Passover Seder was completed.

_"L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim!"_ old Oscar Nachash raised his glass. "Next year in Jerusalem!"

_"L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim!"_ Everyone chorused and raised their own glasses in a toast.

"There's plenty of food left over," Hannah reminded Alfons. "Don't forget to take some back to your apartment for your friend, Edward. You boys both need more decent food in you."

"Thanks', _Fräu_ Nachash! Ed'll be glad for an excuse to take a break from our research." Though the team had noticed their newest member becoming less enthusiastic about their rocketry projects lately.

Franz nodded. "Yes, it's really to bad he couldn't join us tonight."

Marta raised an eyebrow. "It was pretty rude of him to refuse the invitation, _Vati_."

"Oh, you know Ed." Alfons put his hand behind his head and laughed sheepishly, remembering his friend's behavior at Christmas and Hanukkah. "Don't take it personally, Marta; he just isn't into organized religion."

"Neither are you," the girl pointed out, "but Ed seems to have a personal vendetta against it or something. He said the whole idea of smearing lamb's blood over the door so the Angel of Death would pass over the first born son was disgusting and primitive."

Alfons had to nod in agreement. "Yeah... Well, I think all that religious talk causes him allot of pain somehow..." Not that he actually _believed_ Edward's stories about being from some other world... but... he knew how it felt to lose a brother... Eduard had been sixteen when he'd died, just the same age as Ed when the team had first met him two years back... He supposed with Eduard gone that made _him_ the first born son now...

"You shouldn't let that bother you, Marta. Maybe next year your friend will feel more comfortable with religious traditions." _Opa_ Oscar patted his granddaughter's arm reassuringly, but everyone immediately became concerned when she flinched away and hissed in pain.

"Marta, darling, are you alright?" her mother asked.

She forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, _Mutti_. It's just a little bruise."

Her parents and grandfather looked at each other. They knew better then that by now.

"Marta, did you get into another fight?" Franz demanded. It was more of an accusation then a question.

Now it was Marta and Alfonse's turn to look at each other. They'd agreed not to tell, but now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag...

"But it wasn't _my_ fault, Vati!" she insisted. "Those _Jungsturm_ bast... I mean boys were harassing our team just because I was on it!"

"Right, they kept bothering us for having a Jewish girl on our team," Alfons added, "So Marta, Loa and Dorchet taught them a lesson." He himself had stayed out of those fights though. What good would he be if he hacked up both of his lungs and expired earlier then predicted?

Franz shook his head. "Marta, you know how we feel about fighting. There's absolutely no excuse for that, and you are to stay away from the _Jugendbund_."

Oscar raised an eyebrow at his son in law. "And look who's talking? You're the one who wants to stay here in Munich!" While everyone deluded themselves, more and more men were admiring their swastika armbands, subscribing to _Völkischer Beobachter_ and getting free beer at Nazi rallies!

"A round of fisticuffs between teenagers is completely different," Franz argued. "The SA knows better then to go anywhere near us. If they make one wrong move the law will be on our side and they can't risk that."

"Your word in God's ear, Franz. What do you risk while you make that assumption? It wouldn't hurt to come back to Austria with me."

Alfons and Marta shifted uncomfortably in their seats and Hannah brought a hand to her forehead at the start of the dismayingly familiar argument between the two men in her life.

"Papa, Franz, please, not at Passover dinner." But they weren't listening to her.

"I don't think it will hurt _anything_," Franz stated. "I believe it's simply unnecessary. I have no intention of moving back to Austria and working in Vienna again."

"You! You! You! What about your wife and daughter? You intend to leave them in jeopardy?"

"_You're_ the one who's planning to leave them!" he snapped back at his father in law.

"He's leaving with my _blessing_, Franz," his wife reminded him patiently.

Oscar nodded. "Hoping you'll do the sensible thing and follow me."

"Papa, will you stop blaming Franz?" Hanna said. "Our decision to stay is a _joint_ decision."

"Then there are _two_ fools in this house!"

Franz put down his glass. "And one meddlesome old prophet of doom," he replied coldly.

Oscar glared back at his overly optimistic son in law. A decent man who thought he could find that same decency in every other man, but decency wasn't always enough. One had to use their smarts too.

"Right, I'm just an old man who doesn't know anything. But I've seen more then you, Franz, and I realize it's dangerous to feel to comfortable or to safe. That's why I'm going to go back to Austria and then..."

"Enough, Papa!" his daughter finally exclaimed, putting her hand firmly down on the table. "It's Passover and we should be having a decent, civil, quiet conversation. Besides, we are only shocking the children with this talk."

* * *

But Marta wasn't shocked in the least. On the contrary, she'd been hearing this same argument between her grandfather and her father nearly every time Opa Oscar came over during the past year.

"I'm sorry about what happened with _Vati_ and _Opa_ Oscar," Marta apologized later when she was walking Alfons back to _Fräulein_ Gracia's that cold, clear night. "They shouldn't have picked a fight in front of you, Alfons."

"It's all right. Things are hard for everyone in Munich now," he gave her a reassuring smile. "That's why we're working on getting ahead with rocketry, right? So we can give this beaten down country back some pride!" Then he tilted his head thoughtfully. "Do you think you're family will end up going back to Austria though?"

Marta shrugged. "I don't know... Right know _Mutti's_ playing referee between _Vati _and_ Opa_ Oscar, but I think she's starting to see _Opa_ Oscar's side a little more..."

Alfons frowned. "If they went back to Vienna... would you go too? You could always stay and rent a room at Gracia's..." then he blushed again.

Marta grinned at that. "Why,_ Herr_ Rocket Man," she teased him with the nickname he'd earned when they had first established their group, "are you saying you'd miss me?"

Now Alfons began to fumble and stutter. "Well... I... I mean... You're a great help to our team... I'd miss... I mean _we'd_ all miss working with you..." Then he shyly took her hand in his own.

A warm, pleasant feeling came over her as Marta affectionately squeezed his hand back. Soon the two were passing by the _Ohel Jacob_ Synagogue on _Herzog-Max-Straße_ where her family had gone for pre-Seder holiday services ever since arriving in Munich. She gave the place a fond salute. Built in the eighteen hundreds, she hoped it would be standing for hundreds of more years to come!

Soon they had left _Sankt-Jakobs-Platz_ and eventually, as they neared _Ludwigstraße_, the conversation steered back to Alfonse's strange roommate, Edward Elric.

"So he really thinks people here look just like people in this so-called other world?" Marta asked.

Alfons nodded. "Yeah, he says I look like his brother- another Alphonse- and he talks about a couple that were allot like _Herr_ Officer Hughes and_Fräulein_ Gracia,_ Herr_ Professor Huber and Clara were some Colonel and his female Lieutenant . Even the guys on our rocket team have their counterparts."

"Oh? And how about me?" Marta played along, amused.

Alfons grinned. "Well, according to Ed, you're an ex-soldier who was turned into a snake chimera in some creepy secret laboratory."

She rolled her eyes with a smirk. "_Nachash_, serpant. Well I guess it figures, right? Really, Ed should quit his day job with rockets and start working on his own novels."

They laughed together, and that and the cold, dry early spring weather made Alfons lean over and cough for several moments into his hand.

Marta put a hand on his shoulder. Ever since winter those coughing spells of his seemed to be getting longer and more frequent...

"Oh, it's okay," he blatantly lied and forced a cheerful smile at her concerned expression. "It's just been a tough winter on my weak lungs, that's all."

For some reason, Marta wasn't sure she really believed him, but she nodded anyway. "Yeah, I remember how your _mutti_ and Eduard always fussed over you before letting you go outside in the cold."

At this, Alfons became wistful. "Yeah... Sometimes I think... well, if it hadn't been for my bad lungs... maybe he'd still be here..."

"No, don't say that! You were only nine years old when that happened and he insisted on being the one to go all that way to get medicine for you. For Pete's sake! That attack on London wasn't your fault!"

She of all people knew the main reason behind Alfonse's determination to help get Germany out of this war-torn depression. He was hoping to redeem himself and this country for Eduard's death somehow.

They walked past Saint Ludwig's and Alfons recalled Ed's reaction to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve...

_"Do you really believe in all that?" _his friend and room mate had demanded after running back outside into the cold without even his jacket._ "Why did you go? Just for the music? Or because you really believe in that?"_

Well, in all honesty, Alfons hadn't really known how to answer that at first, so he had quoted _Psalm 8_ and admitted he wondered if there might not be something more, or someone more, out there... Of course, when one knows they only have so much time left to live, one can get to seriously contemplating things like that...

"Well, I think Eduard would be proud to hear the good news," he said, wanting to forget about that theological conversation with Ed and surprise Marta.

She looked at him curiously. "Okay, I'll bite. What is it?"

Alfons beamed. "We got a message the other day, and it looks like we just might have an interested sponsor for our research! They want to meet us and look at our work of course, but think of what this means if they like what they see!"

This was fantastic! "All right!" Marta cheered, hugging him excitedly. "There's no way they won't be impressed with our team and what we've come up with! So, who's the potential sponsor?"

"Oh, it's Professor Karl Haushofer and Lieutenant Rudolf Hess," he explained.

Marta stopped with a shudder and it was as if he had driven a cold knife into her back. "I hope you're joking, Alfons," she said coolly after a moment to compose herself.

He blinked in surprise. Why wasn't she glad to hear this? She'd been hoping their research would get a sponsor almost as much as he had.

"No, I'm not joking," he replied. "What's wrong?"

It took all of Marta's self control not to slap him, then grab him by the lapels and shake him silly!

"Alfons, those two are from_ Thule!_ They're occultists! And what's worse, they're with the Nazis!"

"But they're not like the _Jungsturm_, Marta," he argued feebly, silently praying he wouldn't have to tell her the_ real_ reason he was so desperate for a sponsor, even if it was Thule. "_Herr_ Haushofer's wife is half Jewish anyway."

At this, Marta threw up her hands in frustration. "Dammit! That's not the point! What do you think will happen if those lunatics ever get into real power here? It all starts again! Another inquisition! More pogroms!"

"You don't know that for sure!" For heaven's sake, this wasn't the middle ages!

"Of course I do!" she snapped. "And if you weren't so wrapped up in those rockets and bothered to see what was going on right in front of you, you'd know it too!"

"Well at least they're trying to do_ something_ to get us through this depression and take back our country's pride!"

"I mean it, Alfons! If Thule sponsors our projects, I might have to quit the team!"

He was completely taken about by this sudden ultimatum. "Are you serious? You can't just quit over something like that!"

"Yes, I can! And what's more, if _Vati _and_ Mutti_ go back to Austria with _Opa_ Oscar, I might be coming with them! Alfons, how could you even _consider_ Thule as a sponsor? Why can't you just wait to find another..."

_"Because I'm running out of time!"_ the boy finally lost all composure and blurted out, which immediately resulted in a fit of coughing so harsh it brought him to his knees on the ground.

"Alfons!" the girl knelt down and put her hands on his shoulders to steady him, then she gasped in horror when she saw his hand come away from his mouth covered with blood! "_Oy!_ I'm such an idiot! How come I never realized...?"

"Because I never told anyone... Because I didn't want you to know..." he answered with a weak smile. This was the end of the pretense, of the endless excuses of minor colds and coughs.

Marta took out her handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from Alfonse's mouth and hands. "But tuberculosis can still be treated!" she protested hopefully.

"It's not TB. If it were, I'd be in a sanitarium now. That's contagious and I wouldn't risk anyone contracting it, not even for my rockets."

She blinked in surprise and confusion. "Then what...?"

"Cancer... The doctor said all that time working on our rockets... in those factories... took it's toll on my lungs..."

Her throat tightened and her eyes burned. "Then... you mean...?"

"He nodded slowly, but his expression betrayed no fear, only a sad kind of acceptance. "I may not be here to join you for Passover next year, Marta." Then he gave a resigned sigh as she helped him back up onto his feet. "I'm sorry, I was just being selfish. If you think it's best to quit the team and go back to Vienna with your family..."

She shook her head. "No! For heaven's sake, I can't leave you now!"

"Marta, maybe it would be safer to leave Munich and come back when everything is better." Alfons reached out and gently brushed a strand of ash blonde hair from her face. "I want to do something to help get Germany back on it's feet, but I don't want you to stay out of guilt or pity for me."

Her throat tightened. How could she tell him? How could she make him understand this was something _far_ more then guilt or pity? Damn that Ed for dismissing Alfons, herself and this whole world as just a part of his own personal hell!

In response, she took Alfonse's face gently in her hands. "If you ever need anything, just let me know! Weather I'm in Munich or Vienna, I promise you won't be alone when... when it's time..."

He smiled, took her hand and kissed it softly. "Thank you, Marta. You won't tell Ed or the team or anyone else will you?"

By now, they were at the small flat Alfons and Edward rented from _Fräulein_ Gracia.

"No, I promise," she agreed reluctantly as she walked him to the door.

"Thanks' again!" he beamed, as if he hadn't just confessed to her that he was dying and had barely more then a year left!

After Alfons had gone back inside to take her mothers Seder meal leftovers to Ed and closed the door behind him, Marta still remained on the step for several moments... She swallowed and blinked in a rather pathetic attempt to hold back her tears...

Finally, remembering her handkerchief she'd used to wipe the blood from Alfonse's mouth and hand, she took it from her coat pocket... With a deep sigh, she drew the blood across the lintel and side posts of the door.

If someone had told Marta only months from now Alfons would be gone- shot and left to die on the cold hard floor of Haushofer's factory- and that in fifteen years to that date her community's beloved Synagogue would be totally demolished, she probably would have stood up and punched them out.

The End

_You took my hand_  
_You showed me how_  
_You promised me_  
_You'd be around_  
_Uh huh_  
_That's right_  
_I took your word_  
_And I believed_  
_In everything_  
_You said to me_  
_Uh huh_  
_That's right_

_If someone said three years from now_  
_You'd be long gone_  
_I'd stand up and punch them out_  
_Cause they're all wrong_  
_I know better_  
_'Cause you said forever_  
_And ever_  
_Who knew?_

_Remember when_  
_We were such fools_  
_And so convinced_  
_And just too cool_  
_Oh no,_  
_No no._  
_I wish I could touch you again_  
_I wish I could still call you friend_  
_I'd give anything_

_When someone said count your blessings now_  
_'fore they're long gone_  
_I guess I just didn't know how_  
_I was all wrong_  
_They knew better_  
_Still you said forever_  
_And ever_  
_Who knew?_

_Yeah yeah_  
_I'll keep you locked in my head_  
_Until we meet again_  
_Until we_  
_Until we meet again_  
_And I won't forget you my friend_  
_What happened_

_If someone said three years from now_  
_You'd be long gone_  
_I'd stand up and punch them out_  
_Cause they're all wrong and_  
_That last kiss_  
_I'll cherish_  
_Until we meet again_  
_And time makes_  
_It harder_  
_I wish I could remember_  
_But I keep_  
_Your memory_  
_You visit me in my sleep_  
_My darling_  
_Who knew?_

Who Knew © 2006 Pink, Max Martin and Lukasz Gottwald

Dedicated to my dear friend, dungeonwriter AKA hotspur on Passover!

Notes  
* I did some studying about Passover traditions, the geography, archtitecture, history and politics of Munich at the time, so any glaring errors are my own.  
* For anyone who's seen _"A Friendship In Vienna"_ (or read the book which inspired it) the Nachash family is based somewhat on the Doranwalds, who were based loosly on the author's own family.


End file.
